


When Worlds Collide

by bdol, impolitecanadian



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, It's a surprise - Freeform, M/M, NHL Player Eric "Bitty" Bittle, also another au???, alternate universe - every other chapter is a different au, i think this qualifies as a crack fic, this fic is an experiment in collaboration and friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-06 08:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14052993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bdol/pseuds/bdol, https://archiveofourown.org/users/impolitecanadian/pseuds/impolitecanadian
Summary: bdol:The first time Eric Bittle and Jack Zimmermann meet, it’s across the faceoff circle during the first matchup of the regular season between the Aces and the Falconers. It’s Bitty’s rookie season, having made it through the preseason despite predictions from commentators on the NHL Network on his size and non-aggressive style of play. He’s determined to prove all of them wrong.impolitecanadian:Good luck lmao bc it's time travel





	1. Preface/Prompt/Context

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just a fun project for us so please don't take it too seriously lol

the prompt is [this post](http://fivewrites.tumblr.com/post/165921763076/i-have-a-dumb-idea-fic-wars) on tumblr:

 

Ok, hear me out:  **Two authors. Ten chapters. One fic.**

_**Two genres.** _

Each author gets five chapters, interwoven. (choose who starts, the other gets to end)

Each author also gets a seperate, completely opposing genre or trope.

They must respect the fiction of all previously written chapters. However, during their chapter, they must, to the best of their writing ability,  _wrench_  the story out of its previous genre or trope and back into theirs.

I just want to read a story that can’t decide if it’s a college AU or a Pacific Rim monster slayer. Half romance, half murder thriller. Half law procedural, half sitcom. Half Harry Potter au, half medical drama.

This is a dumb idea.

**we're also gonna do an 11th chapter together to tie it all together and wrap the whole shebang up nicely**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm gonna be going first (bdol) 
> 
> and kaitlyn will do the second actual chapter (impolitecanadian)
> 
> we may go as long as a month in between chapters. we're in college. life is hard. 
> 
> this! is! for! fun!
> 
> we literally flipped a coin to determine the order lmao


	2. in the beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty meets Jack during their first matchup of the regular season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I (bdol) get to go first! I wrote this last night so this is my au for the au-switching. nhl player bitty! my favorite au tbh. I watch a h*ck ton of hockey
> 
> also I like kent. don't @ me

The first time Eric Bittle and Jack Zimmermann meet, it’s across the faceoff circle during the first matchup of the regular season between the Aces and the Falconers. It’s Bitty’s rookie season, having made it through the preseason despite predictions from commentators on the NHL Network on his size and non-aggressive style of play. He’s determined to prove all of them wrong.

 

They’re playing the Falcs at home, and the stands are a sea of blue, peppered occasionally with black jerseys.The Aces’ center, Willy, was booted out, and Bitty was called in to take the draw. 

 

Brown eyes meet blue, and as the referee moves to drop the puck, Jack winks at him. Bitty loses the draw, and the Falcs take off with the puck towards the Aces’ net.

 

Bitty curses and hustles down the ice after Jack, hot on his heels, trying to poke check the puck away. There’s a minute left in the third, and just as Kent joins Bitty to flank Jack on his other side, Jack shoots. With a neat wrist shot, Jack puts the Falcs above the Aces by one. 

 

Kent skates over to Bitty. “What was that faceoff, Bitty? Zimms got your tongue? I’ve never seen you fumble it like that before.”

 

“Something like that.” Bitty’s eyes are fixed on Jack’s celly with his linemates. 

 

Bitty’s not the first openly gay NHL player — an unfortunate instance involving the Dallas Stars and a bottle of tequila took care of that hurdle for him. However, he’s still one of a very select few, and he’s certainly been vocal about his fondness for tall, blue-eyed men on his twitter, despite the best efforts of the Aces PR. He figures they let it slide because Kent is most of their work — Kent’s drunk tweets have been featured alongside Tyler Seguin’s and Brad Marchand’s on the “What Not To Do on Social Media” seminar given to rookies. 

 

So what if Bitty tweets that his celebrity crush is someone who happens to Jack Zimmermann pretty closely?  Kent’s the only one who knows that Bitty even remotely has a thing for Jack, and that’s just because Bitty got drunk and cried about Jack’s ass on the kitchen floor the other week. Kent had been a good roommate and brought Bitty a glass of water and Kit Purrson to pet. 

 

The next morning, Kent filled Bitty in on his pseudo-relationship with Jack back when they were playing in the Quebec Major Junior Hockey League. Bitty knows about Jack’s overdose and whole family drama with being the son of Bad Bob Zimmermann — who Bitty didn’t even know about until his first year at Samwell. Bitty had transferred after two years at the University of Georgia and graduated from Samwell as the first openly gay NCAA Division One hockey captain with an offer from the Las Vegas Aces. 

 

Bitty stares at the Falcs. Jack just scored the game-winning goal, and his teammates are jumping all over him. Bitty furiously chews on his mouthguard while Kent’s mouth twists downwards. They lost the game off of Bitty’s draw. 

  
  


————

  
  


It’s after the game, on the bus back to their hotel, when Kent unceremoniously drops into the seat next to Bitty. Kent stares at Bitty until he pulls out an earbud. “What do you want?” Bitty asks him, with more bite than he intended. Then he shuddered. His mama would break out the wooden spoon if she had heard the tone of his voice.

 

Kent shrugs and hands his phone over to Bitty. “Thought you might want to see Zimms’ post-game interview. One of the journos asked him about you.”

 

Bitty snatches the phone from Kent’s hand. He quickly plugs his headphones into Kent’s phone and presses play on the video. There’s Jack, flushed with exertion and still half in his gear, doing his best to fend off the scrum of journalists. 

 

_ “Jack, how did it feel to play against Eric Bittle? He was your successor at Samwell, wasn’t he?” one of the journalists asked.  _

 

_ Jack scratches the back of his head, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “It was really good. I never really got the chance to see him play while he was at Samwell, but that speed really is unreal. He’s a great player, and I think it’s going to be a lot of fun to play against the Aces this season.” _

 

The video cuts off after that, and Bitty frowns at the phone. “I didn’t know he kept up with Samwell hockey after he left. Lardo and the guys never said anything.”

 

Kent shrugs again. “Jack’s weird about stuff. Or at least he used to be. I don’t really know. I visited Samwell once, and we talked for awhile, but like, we’re not friends anymore. I don’t really know how he is anymore, I guess. We became different people — it’s whatever.”

 

“Whatever,” Bitty echoes.

 

Kent rolls his eyes. “Dude, I’m like, so over it, chill. Anyways, the cat sitter sent me a video of Kit trying to climb up the fridge. Wanna watch it?”

 

“Is that even a question?”

 

————

  
  


They’re flying out in the morning, and while Kent is snoring away in the other bed, Bitty can’t sleep. He keeps thinking about the look in Jack’s eyes when he said that Bitty’s a great player. Bitty never thought that eyes that icy could look so warm. He’d never gotten the chance to see them in person before tonight.

 

He came to Samwell the year after Jack graduated, going from a third line wing to a starter. The captains that year, Ransom and Holster, took Bitty aside a few days after the first game of the season. Bitty had crumpled when taking a check, and the coach opted to not play him for the rest of the game. It had been humiliating. Checking wasn’t as bad at UGA. Division One hockey really was something else. When they talked to him, Ransom and Holster said that a friend of theirs was watching the game and had an idea, and that they wanted to try doing checking clinics with him. It ended up working.

 

Looking back, Bitty wonders if the friend they mentioned was Jack. He hopes so. Bitty shoves at his pillow and rolls over. He falls asleep thinking about Jack watching his first game at Samwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up:
> 
> whatever impolitecanadian decides to surprise us with :)


	3. i dont title my chapters because im not a nerd like somebody else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! It’s me, ya boy, uh the second author.
> 
> Im going to put some warnings here for some descriptions of violence in a military context, injury, and depiction of suicide, nothing too graphic, but it’s there. Feel free to message me on tumblr @applecrumblebitty or @impolitecanadian if you have any questions or concerns about what these representations are, and I can explain them to you before you read.

When Eric opened his eyes the last thing he expected to see was the broad expanse of the open sky.  He blinked, hard.  Once.  Twice.  But he kept seeing a stark, cloudless blue.

“What the _fuck_?” he said quietly to himself.  He was nearly certain that he’d fallen asleep in his hotel room with Kent murmuring to himself in the other bed.  Kent’s sleep talking was his worst habit.  But how else would Bitty have a video on his phone of him sleep-singing Britney Spear’s “Toxic” like he was seven shots of tequila into an appropriated Cinco de Mayo.  His phone!

Bitty patted down his pockets, but didn’t feel the familiar rectangle of his iPhone.  He sighed, and refocused his attention to figuring out where he was the old fashioned way.  By looking around.  He was lying on his back.  In a field.  Or a meadow, he guessed.

Look, Bitty was raised in Georgia.  This isn’t the first time he’s woken up in a similarly compromising position.  In terms of being in a field that is.  The grass was green.  Very green.  And wet?  Providence, if that’s where he was, hadn’t had rain for several weeks, yet the back of Bitty’s shirt was soaked through from the water on the ground.

It occurred to him, somewhere around this point, that he should probably be freaking out.  Obviously, he’d been kidnapped, or like… something.  But laying the grass, staring at the sky, Bitty felt almost content.  This was most certainly a dream.  He had very vivid, and sometimes lucid dreams a lot, and normally they weren’t quite as peaceful as this one appeared to be.  He rested his head back on his arm, and decided to just stare for a little bit longer before forcing himself to wake up.  Forget about the NHL, and the Aces, and Kent Parson, and his cat, and most importantly, forget about Jack Zimmermann. 

When the buzzing in the sky started, Bitty was sure he was imagining it.  He hadn’t heard a sound like that since Coach had taken him to air shows as a kid.

“That’s what a real engine sounds like, Junior,” he’d said to a very uninterested Bitty, who would have rather been home, baking with his mother, than looking at old propeller planes.  The moment Bitty realized he probably should have paid a small amount of attention that day came quickly.  Considering that planes fly fast, that’s hardly surprising.

The first plane that came into his view had a target-like pattern painted on the wings.  Blue on the outside, then white, then red.  Bitty wondered briefly why it was flying so low, but assumed it was for an airshow.  It was when the second plane flew in overtop the trees, he became more suspicious.  It was marked with a dark cross on either wing, and Bitty had seen enough episodes of the Peanuts to know that black crosses meant the Red Baron, which meant… Snoopy?  Bitty squinted his eyes, trying to figure out why his brain had decided to re-enact an air chase from some Charlie Brown special, when the Red Baron actually shot Snoopy down.

The plane spiraled, smoke trailing from its tail, as it swan dived towards the ground, directly towards where Bitty was laying.

 _Oh God_ , was all Bitty could think as he scrambled to his feet, and ran, _this is one fucked up dream._   When the shockwaves of the crash’s impact hit him, he was thrown to the ground, and bounced off the still wet grass.  The pain in his left shoulder rippled through his torso, and it caused a startling realization.

This was not a dream.  This was real.  And that pilot needed help.

Bitty had landed on his stomach, and he used his right arm to push himself up off the ground.  A quick look showed him that his left shoulder had been dislocated when he hit the ground.  He clenched his teeth and looked away from his dangling arm.  The adrenaline running through his system was effectively dulling the pain, but not completely eradicating it.  Bitty turned his head to the right, immediately regretting the strain that put on his collarbone, but quickly forgot the tension in his shoulder when he saw the smoking wreck of the plane that was now collapsed in the middle of the meadow. 

He didn’t think, he just ran towards the plane. “Is anyone alive in there?” He yelled as he reached the wreckage.  He only had his right hand to try and dig towards the pilot.  _Pilots_?  No there was only one seat in this thing, right?  Bitty looked at the body of the aircraft, hoping to locate the cockpit.  When he finally found it, he moved quickly towards it, stepping up onto the remnants of a wing to reach inside.  Bitty felt his stomach drop as he realized that the pilot was already dead.  His head bore the clear marks of a gunshot wound on his temple.  Deep down he knew he hadn’t expected the pilot to still be alive, but a feeling of helplessness still overwhelmed him.

He glanced down the body of the plane, finally noticing that the engine, which had previously only been smoking, was now completely engulfed in flames.  Bitty inhaled sharply, and jumped off the wing of the plane.  He started running away from the fire as quickly as he could.  Bitty was fast.  The “fastest player currently in the NHL” fast.  He was built for sprinting, and well, unsurprisingly, had the stamina of a professional athlete. 

But a person can only run so fast before an engine, that flew by luck if anything, that was now feeding impressively large flames, exploded in a spectacular fashion.  The blast came from behind him, so he didn’t see it.  And Bitty had one thought before he was thrown off his feet for the second time in five minutes, which was, _oh fuck,_ and not much else before he saw red from pain, that was quickly cut to black.  Funny, that the colours of the Aces would come to him in a time like this.

\-----

Bitty’s consciousness returned slowly, like molasses being poured into gingerbread dough.  The pain stayed in the back of his mind, but registered a thumping pressure on his chest.  Thumping pressure wasn’t the right word for it.  Realistically, Bitty knew CPR was not supposed to be gentle, but God, if the blast didn’t kill him, then this would.  He felt rough hands tilt his head back gently, and open his chin, before lips were on his, and air was being blown into his lungs before he noticed he hadn’t actually been breathing. 

Bitty snapped open his eyes and coughed on the air that had been forced into his chest. Inhaling again racked pain through his torso, and he could tell that at least one of his ribs was cracked if not more and his shoulder was still dislocated.

“I’m sorry.  Jesus, I’m so sorry,” Bitty heard whoever had saved his life say, “Some of your ribs are probably broken, I could feel them cracking, but I was too scared to stop.”

 Bitty finally looked up and made eye contact with a shocking blue that rivalled the bright, sunny sky.  

“I gotta tell you, Jack.” Bitty coughed and flinched at the pain. “This is not how I imagined our first kiss goin’.”  Apparently his accent was more pronounced in the face of trauma, and it almost made Bitty want to laugh.  Jack chuckled awkwardly, and looked up and away from Bitty.  Nice one _,_ Bitty thought.

Jack was still kneeling over him when Bitty tried to sit up, and Jack carefully pushed him back down without even glancing back down.

 “There’s a burning plane, don’t you think we ought to move?” Bitty asked. 

Jack looked back down at him, “What? Oh, no, I pulled you away from the crash.  I didn’t know it was you, obviously,” he said, “But I’m glad it’s you that I saved.”

Bitty held Jack’s eyes for a long, pregnant, pause.

“Eric?” Jack asked, “ _Where are we_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1917\. The answer is 1917.
> 
> Hello folks, it’s your friendly neighbourhood history major here with something real fun – time travel and Canada in the first world war! 
> 
> It’s safe to say my medical knowledge is nowhere near my historical knowledge. So the CPR is probably (definitely) wrong, but I did it for the Drama™, and here’s some fun history facts to distract you!
> 
> Historical Context:  
> • The plane that was shot down contained a Canadian pilot (I don’t think I explicitly said this in the chapter)  
> • The target pattern (Outside blue, middle white, innermost red) is still used as the logo for the RCAF (Royal Canadian Air Force) today (except the red circle is now commonly a maple leaf)  
> • The planes are a Fokker D.VII (German) and a Nieuport 17 (Allied) fighter plane, respectively. Nieuports are actually French, introduced in 1916, but had been adapted by the majority of the Allied forces by 1917 as it was far superior to the slow Bristol F2a (or a Brisfit), a British two-seater model. A Nieuport 17 is what the majority of Canadian Aces, including Billy Bishop flew.  
> • The RCAF didn’t actually exist in WWI, so these planes would have actually belonged to the British Royal Flying Corps (RFC), but Canada supplied the most pilots, with 1 in 4 of the RFC being Canadian, and of the top thirty British pilots, ten were Canadian. As well, the most decorated First World War pilot, with the most record number of kills (72), was Billy Bishop, a Canadian.  
> • I felt it was appropriate to open the WWI part with the air force because Canadians played such an important role in the development of air warfare that is frequently overlooked. Actually, Canada’s role in WWI is often overlooked in general, and Canada played a pretty big role.  
> • When I reference the gunshot wound in the pilot’s head I am talking about the fact that Britain did not provide their pilots with parachutes (unlike Germany, who encouraged pilots to abandon a crashing plane), and wanted pilots to do everything in their power to save a crashing plane. Because of this, it was not uncommon for Allied pilots to carry handguns in their cockpits so they could end their lives quickly rather than suffer a painful death as a result of the crash or become a POW. Thousands of lives were needlessly lost this way, and it is an unforgivable mistake on the part of the RFC.
> 
> I think it’s really important for me to put here that I am a pacifist. I don’t agree with war in the slightest. But in my studies I also focus on military history, specifically, I tend to work with the social history of the British army during the 18th and 19th centuries, and I’ve always found Canada’s role in WWI interesting, and I’d like to explore it here. I don’t intend to glorify the first world war, because there is nothing to glorify. Millions of people died. Many of them child soldiers. So I don’t like war in the slightest, and that’s something that I hope my sections will portray. There is something that my professor of crime and violence said about why he researches violence that really resonated with me about why I study war, and I think I’ll paraphrase it here: I think I study this because fundamentally, I don’t understand it. Logically, I can see why it happens. But emotionally, I can’t fully grasp it, and I really want to have an answer for why it happens even though I likely never will.
> 
> Oh! And feel free to ask me for sources! I will gladly give them to you!

**Author's Note:**

> find us on tumblr!
> 
> bdol: [ lesbianjeremywade ](https://lesbianjeremywade.tumblr.com)
> 
> impolitecanadian: [ impolitecanadian ](https://impolitecanadian.tumblr.com)


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